Trouble on the Line
by MarySuOfYay
Summary: Sometimes, really weird things happen. Especially when alternate realities are involved. Moreso when an army from an alternate universe is involved. An Alternate-Universe Arcee is not happy about this. Major crossover of doom. There may be violence. :D
1. Chapter 1

Author notes: This idea was floating in my head for a while. I fully suspect it'll be a horrible fanfic, the worst in EVER. But I wanted to write it anyway. :D

SUFFER, READERS! AHAHAHAHA! *falls over*

:D

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_Picture an ending before it's begun_

_The art of forgiveness is not what we're taught_

_Reek of the havoc already made_

_The cradle was damaged, dug by the grave_

-- 'Man with no Country', Flogging Molly

**Trouble's on the Line: Chapter One**

Cliffjumper absolutely hated patrol. Especially this far from anything interesting, in the middle of what the humans called a 'desert-like' atmosphere. Decepticons almost never attacked someone this close to the Ark's surrounding 'territories'; patrol was downright boring. It didn't help that his patrol partner was someone he disliked.

Why did Prime believe he and Bumblebee would be good patrol partners? Granted, they were both minibots of the same mold -- almost had the same vehicle form, thanks to a lack of human imagination --, but they were hardly the same. They barely tolerated each other on their best days, and Cliffjumper had very few of those days.

At the moment, he was boredly going through the motions his duty demanded. Save for a few starving buzzards cawing overhead in the search of food, silence reigned. It seemed not even Bumblebee was in a a good enough mood to so much as turn on the radio. Perhaps the sheer boredom is why the yellow minibot drove 'off the trail', as it were, and headed to a nearby cliff overlooking a deep, barren valley. Cliffjumper followed with a complete lack of mirth.

"Why are we stopping?" The crimson Transformer stayed in his vehicle mode even as Bumblebee transformed, standing close to the cliff edge.

"You don't think it's beautiful up here?" Bumblebee frowned. "Look at the view."

"It's a wasteland. With sand." Cliffjumper huffed. Still, he transformed and looked over the terrain; the sight of a flock of buzzards diving towards a pre-killed meal caught his optics. "..And dead organics."

Bumblebee took in a deep breath to keep himself calm; the action itself was more human than otherwise, but he found it was surprisingly effective; Cliffjumper had always managed to rile and annoy him. He sat by the cliff's edge; nothing had occurred thus far on patrol, and a few cycles to relax wouldn't hurt.

Of course, as the universe would have it, things had a habit of going wrong just when most believed they wouldn't. The human's called it 'Murphy's Law'; an old Autobot saying called it 'the Pit's interference'. Whichever verse one preferred, the flash of light in the distance, within the valley and not very far from the two minibots, certainly fell well in line with the old sayings.

"What the slag..?" Cliffjumper peered at the growing light; it somehow resembled the way Cybertronian space bridges would open up, down to the oval-esque shape that appeared. It was a swirling miasma of dark colors.

For a long cycle, nothing happened. Then, a slew of Transformers -- all the same gleaming silver in color -- calmly walked out of the swirling mess, every one heavily armed.

"..Uh.." Bumblebee stared in surprise; the faction insignia each wore was unrecognizable. Although, strangely, several of the bots themselves looked remarkably like Autobots and Decepticons they were familiar with. "..This is different."

At first, the two minibots just stared, ducking low at the cliff edge; the bots seemed peaceful enough, not actively making any dangerous motions. One slightly larger bot who bore a somehow disturbing resemblance to Jazz seemed to be in command of the slightly more than a dozen bots, if the attention he received as he spoke was any indication.

Quite suddenly, the Jazz look-alike gestured to the direction of the cliff; the other silver mechs looked up, seemed to spot them, and then promptly started to rush towards them. The mixed expression of determination and dark grins suddenly didn't seem all too peaceful; in fact, it was outright dangerous.

"Uh.." Bumblebee sputtered again. "..Maybe we should head back --"

"Slag, no!" Cliffjumper practically cackled and dug in to subspace, bringing out an incredibly large cannon. "Finally, some action!" He promptly started firing on the silver bots.

"What are you _doing_?!" Bumblebee boggled at his patrol partner. "We don't know who they are!"

At the return fire they received, Cliffjumper only grinned. "Obviously, they're Decepticons!" He had nothing to base this on, but it didn't stop him from continuing his attack.

Perhaps they shouldn't have been standing as close as they were to the cliff's edge; a rather well aimed blast from the Jazz look-alike sent the stone and sand crumbling beneath them. Thankfully, for a Transformer -- even for the minibots --, the fall wasn't as damaging as it would have been for a human. They both tumbled with startled yelps.

At least one of them had the mind to call for backup, even as they fell. "Bumblebee to -- " He hit the ground, face-first. "..We're under attack. Ow.."

"Let's get out of here." The look-alike even _sounded_ like Jazz, save for the lack of jovial tone. "They called for backup."

Several other silver-coated mechs grabbed for the two minibots' arms; they both flailed and struggled in surprise, stunned from the attack and subsequent fall.

The band of silver bots were literally dragging them, kicking and flailing, for the still standing swirling mass in the distance. They didn't get more than halfway there before a small explosion -- a blaster fire -- erupted within the ground between the would-be kidnappers and the portal in question.

A very pink femme wielding a very large gun stood on what was left of the same cliff the minibots had been standing on, she fired again, this time at the silver mechs themselves, taking obvious care not to hit the two Autobots.

"For the.." The Jazz look-alike snarled a very deep, very un-Jazz like snarl. "Get in to the slagging gate, all of you!"

The pink femme blasted at the ground in front of the silver ones again, blocking and delaying the escape. Bumblebee realized exactly what she -- and, in a strange bout of humor, hoped it was a femme and not a mech with a poor choice in paint color -- was doing. She was simply trying to buy time for the rest of the Autobots to get there.

The femme obviously knew what she was doing; silver-painted attacks were met with swift dodging and quick bouts of return fire. The strategy of blocking the escape route with firepower did appear to be working; in fact, for a full half joor, the single femme kept the battle at a stalemate just long enough for the loud roar of multiple engines to rend the air.

"Finally!" The femme, oddly, could be heard over the roar, seconds before Autobot fire came down on the silver squadron.

The Jazz look-alike growled in frightening fury. He turned and ran for the swirling circle, followed hurriedly by the rest of his men. This time, it appeared Murphy's Law was working against the kidnappers; just as the two minibots were about to be dragged through, something else came _out_ of the portal and slammed in to the mechs that had been dragging them along. It seemed to cause some panic; Bumblebee and Cliffjumper were rapidly dropped and left behind as their would-be capturers ran through.

A trio of unrecognizable bots -- at least, unrecognizable in the current firepower surrounding them -- were running away from the fight in nothing short of sheer, absolute and visible terror. One of them -- a seeker -- fell with a shriek of pain as a blast met him in the back; another -- with very organic looking wings -- stopped to help the fallen, grabbing the seeker to drag him off.

At least two of the silver-painted bots refused to leave empty handed. A pair of identical monochrome dopplegangers of Sunstreaker managed to grab the third -- a _complete _identical duplicate of Ratchet with the familiar red and white paint -- and pulled him back through the portal. The Ratchet duplicate screamed in panic and flailed, but failed in his endeavor to escape; once he and the last of the bizarre invaders were in the swirling mass, the portal closed, vanishing with a bright light as if it never had existed.

"Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, are you both all right?!" The real Jazz ran up to the stunned pair of minibots.

"Yeah.. Yeah, we're, uh.. Fine." Bumblebee seemed to be in shock. "..What just happened?" The pink mech that had single-handedly saved them both ran by, ignoring the Autobots entirely, towards the two that had come out of the portal. The yellow minibot stared. "..Is that _Arcee_?"

It did appear to be the familiar pink femme, although her very body language seemed off-kilter. She bent over the two nearby mechs; the seeker appeared to be offline, and the other -- with a face that looked startlingly like a canine even in robot form -- was shaking profusely in clear panic, holding the seeker in his lap. Arcee spoke quietly with the shaking mech, but whatever she was saying didn't appear to help.

After several seconds, she hurriedly got back up and rushed to the Autobots. "Who's in command, here?"

The incredulity on multiple faces spoke to how stupid a question it was; Optimus Prime stepped forward with some suspicion. "You aren't Arcee."

"Technically not, no." The femme took in a deep breath, speaking fast. "I'll explain everything once we get somewhere safe, but those two are heavily injured and need repairs and they need them now. They may look similar to enemies you have, but I assure you that they're not, and I would really, really like it if they didn't both die right now."

The request seemed sincere, even frustrated; Prime thought it over for only a second. "Let's get them to the Ark."

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Much to the surprise of the Autobots still within the Ark and a particular pink femme, Arcee had passed by herself following Optimus Prime on the way in. The doppleganger didn't so much as glance to her other self, as if this was all absolutely normal.

The unsurprised Arcee, however, did seem nervous. Not quite worried or frightened, but the sort of terror that strikes sparklings after they had done something particularly naughty, or students before the night of an exam.

Only those that had been at the bizarre battle -- the minibots and their would-be rescuers -- and high ranking Autobots were allowed in the large room ordinarily used specifically for high ranking meetings. A large, long table stood in the center of the room, surrounded by a number of chairs. There weren't enough chairs for those in attendance, but the strange pink femme was allowed to sit near Optimus himself.

"What, exactly, happened back there?" Prime seemed to be frowning behind his face mask.

"I'll start from the top." The pink femme sighed softly. "My name is Arcee. Though, I noticed I have a double here, so you can call me 'Saturnia'. If there's another with that designation, make something up, I don't particularly care." For a moment, she appeared frustrated, but it quickly melted in to a stoic demeanor. "I'll have to ask you to suspend your disbelief for a moment, because this will likely sound insane and impossible, but I assure you it's truth. Two words, Optimus Prime; alternate reality."

Several chuckles met her audio receptors, and she looked sharply to the crowd. "If you want to give me a better explanation --"

"Decepticons!" Cliffjumper quickly piped up.

"For once, no." Saturnia shook her head. "I am, technically, a version of your Arcee. I'm from a place we called, simply, Central. My allies and I are supposed to watch over the realities and make sure they don't meet each other, but, as you can tell, we failed _spectacularly _in our recent endeavors."

Now, she appeared to be ranting, volume raising ever so slightly as she went on.

"Those silver boys you saw out there? An amalgamation of multiple realities. Some _aftplate _has been going around and kidnapping people and brainwashing them, and we don't know who's behind it. Somehow, they've managed to do it entirely under our radar without other worlds catching sight of who's been doing it. I wouldn't be here, and neither would you two friends here, if one of my brothers hadn't spotted that invasion back there by _accident_!"

There was stunned silence; Saturnia took in a long, deep intake, optic twitching slightly as she forced herself to calm down. "..Sorry. At any rate, I wouldn't ordinarily even be allowed to tell you any of this if we didn't have those two escapees. They're the only two we've ever seen or heard of, and they're invaluable to our entire mission to stop whoever is doing this." She looked to a quiet Optimus Prime. "An army is amassing, Prime. We don't know who's in command of it or what they want. I don't ask that you and yours involve yourself if it's unneeded, but those.. _Silvers _might come back and I need those two injured bots repaired."

Again, silence reigned; if the pink femme was telling the truth, it was incredible and terrifying.

"How can we believe any of that?" A shocked Hound, jaw hung, asked what everyone was thinking.

"Really, you don't have to." Saturnia sighed. "You can either believe me or not. All I ask is that those two are repaired and to keep your eyes out of the Silvers come back. After that, I'll take them back where they came from. Other than that.. I really don't care."

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_But there is a light_

_There's still a spark_

_There is no place in this room for the dark_

-- 'Man with no Country', Flogging Molly

Author notes: I don't know where the hell this is going. :D


	2. Chapter 2

Author notes: Hehe, the single review convinced my brain to write more. Way to go, you single reviewer you! *cheers and applauds*

Warnings: A bit of violence and horror in this chapter. Mmm.

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_I'm an animal, I'm a victim_

_I'm the answer to your prayers_

_I'm a witness on a witch hunt_

_I'm the monster up the stairs_

_I'm the ghost that's in the mirror_

_I'm everything that you fear_

_I'm the rip tide, I'm the soul-shock_

_I'm the voice that's in your ear_

-- 'Seen It All', Korn

**Trouble on the Line: Part Two**

Perhaps it was for the best that the Autobots at the meeting didn't spread word of what they had heard from Saturnia. Even Cliffjumper remained unusually silent about it, although the other-Arcee noticed the red minibot followed her after she had told this world's heroes what she had.

It had taken some convincing to have Optimus Prime allow her to use their communication system. Unsurprisingly, she was able to do so under the condition that a trusted officer watched over her to see who she called and why. Considering everything she had already told them, she saw no reason to refuse. Saturnia was, however, surprised to find it wasn't one officer, but two; the two minibots.

Bumblebee looked as alarmed as he likely should be, all things considered. Cliffjumper appeared suspicious, peering at the Arcee-double with narrowed optics. Saturnia decided she rather liked this version of Cliffjumper.

The Autobots had what constituted a large, flat-screen plasma surrounded by a myriad of other, smaller screens connected to multiple communication lines. Telephone, radio, short-range and long-range. Saturnia checked for any sort of plugs; a good bit of digging in her subspace brought up a proper match, a small USB flash drive.

"What are you doing?" Cliffjumper peered. "I knew it! A Decepticon virus!"

Saturnia stared at the minibot in some humor; she hadn't even plugged the device in yet. "I'm about to make a very, very long range communication in to another reality. Unless you have ability to do that with your systems as they are, the temporary program on my jump drive is necessary."

Cliffjumper peered at the small device a moment. Warily, he backed off, allowing the pink femme to do as she pleased.

The screen sparked with static for a moment. Then, a password box appeared. Saturnia typed in the sixteen digits quickly, barely looking at the keyboard. Several seconds later, a strange, pale yellow robot that looked suspiciously like an Earthen rabbit appeared on screen.

"Konnichiwa..!" It sung out.

"..Yeah, Moon, connect me to Rachnia, will you?"

"Hai!" The rabbit-like creature pressed a couple of keys.

"..Uh.." Bumblebee gave Saturnia an odd look. "Do we..?"

"No. No, you really don't." The femme smirked slightly. "When you deal with alternate realities, things -- and people -- can get a little.. Weird."

The minibot decided not to query further on the subject. It took several minutes of rather obnoxious elevator music before another face appeared on screen; a black and gold femme who seemed to lack any color at all in her optics.

"Hello, Blackarachnia." Saturnia smiled pleasantly.

Blackarachnia blinked once, looking at the minibots. Then, she held a pincer-like hand in front of her mouth, smirking. "Oh, daddy isn't going to be very happy with you."

"I'll take whatever punishment the elders decide to dish out, because we have escapees. Survivors."

The black and gold femme stiffened, empty optics widening in surprise. "Someone actually _escaped_?! Wait, escap_ees_? As in, _plural_?!"

"Mmhmm." Saturnia nodded. "The two the Silvers were after weren't captured, either. Send a big thanks to Wasp for me, but I think my station here is going to be.. Extended a couple of days. I rather not leave until the two here are repaired and able to walk on their own. I doubt moving them rapidly from place to place will help them psychologically, either."

"Good call.." Blackarachnia nodded once, visibly stunned. "I'll call the big guys about this. I'm sure they'll want to get as much info out of the two runaways as they can."

"You have my number." The pink femme nodded. "I'm temporarily using this Ark's systems for now."

"Thanks for the heads up, Ar." The femme on the other end of the line smiled slightly. "I'll have the cats cover your other missions while you're down there. Do you need backup?"

"Negative. I have things under control here, for now. I'll call if anything changes."

"Got it." The black and gold femme gave a quick salute with a thin pincer. "Central out, sister."

The line ended abruptly, the screen shutting off completely. Saturnia unplugged the small USB drive and put it back in to subspace. Then, she turned to the minibots. "Where's your medical bay?"

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"I have absolutely no idea what the slag this is."

Saturnia blinked as she walked in, surprised at how fast the Ratchet of this world got to the punch. "We're talking about the semi-organic one, aren't we?"

"Yes!" Ratchet raised his arms, appearing glad that someone knew what he was talking about. "I drugged him in to recharge. I've never seen any internal mechanisms like this in my life!"

"What about the other one?" The pink femme seemed amused by Ratchet's almost animated demeanor.

"Yes, well, about that.." The medical officer took in a deep intake. "..He'll be fine, but.. He's Starscream."

Saturnia stared at white and red mech. "And, let me guess.. This bothers you."

"Very much so."

"Then pretend it isn't Starscream because, technically, it isn't. Not yours." Saturnia smirked. "This may surprise you, but there's actually a group of Starscreams out there who are actually good guys."

Ratchet stared; this concept appeared to break his logic circuits, as his expression suddenly became very still and blank.

"Oh, don't stare at me like that." Saturnia laughed a little. "We're talking about alternate realities, half-organic mechs and multiple versions of the same person, and a good version of Starscream is what shocks you?"

"But.. He's.." Ratchet sputtered a moment. "..Starscream."

Saturnia laughed, barely holding in her hilarity. "I'm well aware of this fact. Is he going to survive?"

"Yes, yes he will, although it'll take a few solar cycles." Ratchet nodded slowly, gaining back some sense of self. "So is the.. Partially.. Organic one, I believe. The parts I recognize don't appear too badly damaged."

A sudden scream of absolute panic erupted from a connected room; the closed door barely muffled it.

"..And he's awake. Yay." Saturnia sighed, humor now lost. "I'll go talk to him." Without waiting for Ratchet's permission, she quickly walked over to the door and opened it. A thrown syringe barely missed her head, hitting the door frame like a dart.

"Stay back!" The half-organic in question was holding the mobile berth like a shield and wielding a syringe like a dagger, absolute panic in his optics. "Stay back, all of you!"

"Oookay." Saturnia raised her optic ridge; really, she should have expected this. She raised her hands in a placating manner. "..It's all right. Calm down. My name is Saturnia, and this is Ratchet, and.. Uhm.." Suddenly, she noticed that the two minibots had followed her in. "..Bumblebee and Cliffjumper. I think. We won't hurt you."

The poor mech's intake was coming in fast and shallow, still waving the dagger. The four bots simply stood by the door, and their patience appeared to have some effect; as the partially organic mech looked around the room and took stock of important details, his breath started to even out, becoming slower. After a full three minutes, the dagger-syringe was lowered.

"Okay.." Saturnia slowly started to step forward; she managed to get close enough to pry the syringe away. "It's all right. You're someplace safe, now. You can put the bed down."

The winged, canine-like mech looked at the berth as if he hadn't noticed he had been wielding it. Slowly, he set it down. "..Someplace safe?" The shock in his voice worried the pink femme.

"Yeah.. Someplace sa --" The mech suddenly collapsed; Saturnia barely caught him. "..Ack."

Ratchet rushed forward, helping the dizzy mech back on the berth. A shocked, canine face looked at the medical officer, golden optics wide; gray paint coated the partial organic, melting seamlessly with the fur and feathers that covered him. The colors alone denoted exactly who he was to Saturnia.

"It's all right, Silverbolt.." The pink femme spoke gently; the call of his name had the golden optics turning quickly in her direction. "You don't have to tell me what happened, but you're safe, now."

"His name is Silverbolt?" Bumblebee boggled.

"We got out?" The gray canine stared at nothing, optics unfocused. "..We.." He slowly looked to Ratchet. "..I saw you dragged back in.."

"Wrong one." Saturnia patted a wing gently.

"..Oh." That seemed a proper answer to the shellshocked mech on the berth. "Okay." He lied back and seemed to think for a brief moment; then, he shot back up abruptly. "The other..!"

"He's okay. He's going to be just fine." Saturnia smiled gently.

Once again, this seemed a proper response; Silverbolt lied back down. "Good.. Thank Primus, good.."

Saturnia made a vague gesture to the medical officer; Ratchet appeared to understand the query, and retrieved a syringe. The practically catatonic mech on the bed didn't appear to notice as he was injected and quickly fell under the drug.

"When will he wake up?" The femme sighed.

"Two groons. Maybe three." Ratchet frowned. "..What happened to him?"

"I imagine everything." Saturnia frowned. "Is it possible to get a communication system in here? Even a small one?"

"I'll.. I'll go ask.." Bumblebee sputtered, eager to leave; he gave the offline mech a wide-optic stare before running out.

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The Ark, in all it's glory, lacked a portable communication system that was little better than their audio-only comm units or a human telephone. The request for a small screen and one of those comm units was approved; from there, Saturnia simply hooked the two together with some plugs and wires from her subspace and then had the makeshift system outfitted with the flash drive again.

"I'm a regular McGuyver." The pink femme half whispered to herself in sudden humor.

"What's a McGuyver?" The now awake -- and slightly more aware -- mech on the berth stared at her in bafflement.

"Never mind." Saturnia smirked a little.

After the gray mech had woken up from the drugs, he had been aware, yet subdued; he seemed to lack any sort of mirth or energy, although he certainly seemed much calmer with such simple things as a large blanket and pillow. Transformers ordinarily didn't need such things, but human influence had taught a number of them how important simple soft comforts could be. Where they got blankets and pillows big enough to suit them, however, was unknown.

Despite a lack of keyboard, Saturnia managed to punch in her password at the main screen. The same overly-cheerful rabbit transferred her to the requested line, earning an odd stare from the berth-ridden mech. The same obnoxious elevator music played again as they waited.

"..So.." A canine face looked up at her. "..The center of all realities is.. A bureaucracy?"

Saturnia chuckled softly. "Something like that, yeah. Usually, it works much better than it has been lately."

"I.. See." Still, the mech appeared confused; all things considered, she didn't blame him.

Several minutes came and passed; Saturnia was slightly annoyed when the hold music finally stopped and a face appeared on screen. At who precisely it was, the pink femme stopped in surprise and quickly saluted. "Sir! I didn't think --"

"Oh, stand down." The face of Optimus Prime was on the other end. "I've already been debriefed. Is he one of the escaped?"

"Yes, sir." Saturnia nodded. "The other will need a few solar cycles yet, according to the medic here."

"That's acceptable." The tone both bots held was entirely too formal to denote a simple micro-government; it seemed more military than otherwise. Silverbolt gulped, suddenly nervous.

"My name is Optimus Prime, and I'm sorry to put you though this.." Now, the Prime on the screen looked to the gray mech. "I need you to tell me what happened. From the start, if you can. We need as much information as we can get."

"The start?" The mech shifted in place under the blanket; Saturnia set a hand on his shoulder. The simple gesture appeared to calm him. "The start.. All right.." A deep intake. "..The silver ones appeared out of.. No where. Quickstrike and I were both trying to claim a stasis pod that ended up being a blank. Next thing I knew, this.. Swirling light appeared and the silver ones came out.."

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_"What in tarnation..?" Even Quickstrike had stopped in surprise at the sight of the portal. The Predacon paused his attack to stare at it, peering suspiciously. "..What the..?"_

_Shapes came out of the swirling colors, silver paint gleaming in the afternoon sun. At first, the dozen or so bots that came through seemed just as surprised as the two warring mechs. Then, dark grins lit their faces and they surged forward._

_Quickstrike let out a wild cackle of joy -- he loved a good fight --, and started to fire on the newcomers. A shocked Silverbolt, despite hating the thought of running from a fight, found very little honor in being attacked by completely unknowns and decided to retreat. An attempt to call for help was met with static; a Predacon jamming station must have been nearby._

_The Maximal didn't get very far; a silver mech that bore a resemblance to Tarantulas's old file image fired a net of webbing and caught him solidly around. With the netting as tight as it was, firing wing missiles proved impossible; firing one in desperation ended up nearly blasting his own arm off._

_Both warriors were taken through the portal, the Predacon unconscious from his tactics. Upon being dragged through, Silverbolt had the brief notion that it was all a bizarre Predacon ploy; a hostage-taking, perhaps. It was the sight of dozens -- no, hundreds, if not more -- silver-painted mechs of all sorts that gave the fuzor pause. The sight of a silver version of Optimus Primal, grinning darkly, caused him to gape in stunned confusion._

_The netted mech was left on the ground next to the unconscious Quickstrike for several minutes as the swirling gate closed behind him. Several silver painted mechs laughed and congratulate each other on the latest catch._

_Then, Silverbolt noticed the cages._

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Silverbolt paused for a moment, lost in memory, as he stared at the blankets. He barely noticed his own hands clutching the fleece tight.

Saturnia frowned in concern. "I'm sorry.. We need to know."

"..Someone inside had coined the term 'bot mill'. Something about it resembling a human 'puppy mill', whatever that is." The Maximal took in a deep intake, forcing himself to continue. "Long cages stacked ceiling to floor on top of each other.. Floor, walls and ceiling made of thick wire mesh.. Dozens of us were stuffed in to each one until we could barely move. I.. I think we were separated by type. There were two sets of those cages, one of them was at least thirty yards off. The other one had only the sort like the first Autobots and Decepticons, all metal. I was in one that only had people with beast modes."

"One with beast warriors, the other with the standard type.." Optimus Prime seemed to frown on the screen, but didn't seem entirely too disturbed by the tale itself.

"They were trying to reprogram us. They were breaking us down until our firewalls couldn't resist, anymore." Silverbolt looked up at the screen. "They were _succeeding_."

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_The cages were ceiling to floor. It quickly became obvious why the floor was made of mesh and not solid metal; mech fluid, energon, and all sorts of other fluids would rain from the top cages to the ones below. The ones at the very top cage were perhaps the luckiest, the ones on the very bottom, not so much. _

_An elevator lift was the only way to get from floor to ceiling; Silverbolt didn't know where Quickstrike had ended up, but he had wound up somewhere in the middle, thrown in and shut inside. There were at least two dozen others cramped in with him. Some were recognizable; some were not._

_"What.. is this place..?" To say he was frightened would have been somewhat of an understatement._

_"Oh.. You're new." A mech sporting a deep purple and dark gray form, a copious amount of fur, and had what appeared to be two halves of a wolf head on his shoulders made his way towards the fuzor. He had to squeeze through other mechs to get there, jade optics looking at the canine fuzor with some sadness. "..Is it safe to assume your name is Silverbolt?"_

_"How..?" The fuzor stared._

_The gray and purple mech gestured to the back of the long cage; an identical duplicate of Silverbolt -- missing an optic and heavily scarred. "My name's Wolfang. Uhm.. Welcome to the Pit."_

_Really, none of this was helping Silverbolt's frame of mind; in fact, he felt like offlining, passing out then and there. "What.. How.. What __**is**__ this place?!"_

_"The bots with the silver paint are reprogramming us." Wolfang frowned sadly, looking through the mesh wall to the ground below; they were the equivalent of four stories up. "They're breaking us down until they can get through our firewalls. That's what those things are for."_

_Silverbolt looked to where Wolfang was pointing; there were solid steel tables on the ground surrounding the cages and going deeper in the large complex. At first, he didn't understand why they needed so many tables or what they were there for, until he noticed what looked suspiciously like straps. His optics zoomed in as far as they could go to confirm it. It took several short cycles more until he noticed mechs ties down to several tables; some with odd helmets covering their optics as they twitched in what looked like pain, others cut open in a macabre distortion of surgery, bleeding. At least one mech was offline for good, dead, corpse simply left there._

_"Primus." The fuzor gaped._

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"They were torturing us until we broke down." Silverbolt sighed. "There was always someone screaming, always new people coming in or becoming one of the silver ones. I don't think I was in there more than a month, and so many things happened. The other version of myself was repainted a few days before.."

There was a slight pause, a shudder going through the Maximal's frame.

"..How did you escape?" Saturnia frowned, worried.

"They brought me out and down. Probably back to the tables. The other two came from the other cages, and they were taking all three of us to the same place." A small, sad smile. "The portal opened, and.. We had nothing to lose. We fought to get free and we ran for everything we had." The smile faded and he offlined his optics. "..One of them didn't make it."

"Did they have a name? The silver ones." Prime's voice came from the screen.

"Not that I heard, or any of my cellmates." Silverbolt looked up. "They had temporary names for squadrons and the like, but no formal name that I heard. Most of us just called them 'The Chrome Slaggards'."

"Do you know who was in command of the silver ones?"

Silverbolt shook his head slowly. "No one ever saw him or heard his name. The silver ones simply called him 'The Master', and that was it. They referred to him as male, but beyond that.." He shook his head again.

"Did you notice anything unusual?" Prime asked; at the incredulous stare, he sighed. "To elaborate.. Did you see any wildlife, what was the building made of..? These details might tell us where this entire complex is set up."

Silverbolt looked back to the blankets, thinking deep. "..Most of the area was constructed of metal. Cybertronian design, I think. But there was some wood on the lower parts of the walls. I think I saw a human-sized chair, as well."

Saturnia didn't voice it, but that was rather unhelpful; humans were just as populous as Cybertronians were in the multi-verse.

"Thank you, Silverbolt." Prime nodded on screen. "You've been invaluable. If you remember anything else, anything at all, please don't hesitate to tell us."

A long pause rent the air. The fuzor looked to the screen. "What happens to me now?"

"For now, you'll stay where you are for several solar cycles. Then.. Well, you'll go home. Back to your world."

Silverbolt frowned deeply. "What about Wolfang? What about the others?"

"We'll do what we can." Prime seemed to frown again. "My people are working to find what world this is happening on and to arrange a rescue."

--------------------------------

Outside the door to the partially organic mech's room, Cliffjumper stood in numb shock as he listened in. He had been so certain this was all some sort of Decepticon ruse that the story he had heard instead was a complete surprise.

If this was all true -- and, somehow, he still had doubts despite all evidence to the contrary --, he had come incredibly close to being completely slagged.

The red minibot shifted in place for a moment, unsure; it wasn't often that he simply didn't know what to do. After several cycles of trying to get his thoughts together, he moved away from the door, pace increasing. Prime would want to know what he had learned; perhaps if he told his commander, what he had heard would stop repeating in his head.

--------------------------------

_I'm the hunted, I'm the predator_

_I'm the answer to the riddle_

_I'm the up-beat, I'm the head-fuck_

_I'm the way off left of the middle_

_I'm the player, I'm the naive_

_I'm the one who's not addicted_

_I'm the logic to the fuck up_

_I'm the broken one who fixed it_

-- 'Seen It All', Korn

Author notes: I swear, it'll get less Beast Wars-ey later. :D


End file.
